Rebels in Equestria
by MDRvSIX
Summary: When his home is invaded by a foreign power Anon, a mere student, is conscripted to fight to save his home. Unbeknownst to him, his role in the war is what leads to him being sent to Equestria. (Anonymous in Equestria)
1. Chapter 1

The winter night is pitch black and brutally cold. Snow gently falls down onto the cityscape below. The air is filled with the sounds of war. Explosions and gun fire echo throughout the empty city.

You find yourself in the cargo trailer of an old U-Haul van. The can speeds down an abandoned highway towards Downtown Tarvo City. Your home town, and the epicenter of the fighting. You and a dozen other men are packed inside like sardines. You glance around, catching a glimpse of the other men. Each one of them carries a look of desperation, and determination. Such expressions have been forged after several months of brutal fighting.

Eleven months.

You've been fighting for eleven long and grueling months. It's been eleven months since enemy forces invaded your country and besieged your land with war. For eleven long and brutal months the Estovakians have been occupying your country. They've been leeching of your land like parasites, taking everything they could find. To you and everyone around you, it feels longer. Maybe even an eternity. It's becoming more and more difficult to remember how life was before the war.

Those bastards… They stole everything from you. Your home. Your family. Your friends. You're even starting to forget the sounds of their voices. They took everything. Your entire life, ripped right out of your grasp But all that would change tonight.

As the van nears its destination, the sounds of war grow louder and louder. You stare out the window, gazing upon the aftermath of the fighting. What was once was a busy shopping district, now lay in ruin. Entire buildings and structures are completely leveled. The streets are littered with craters from explosions. Bodies of the dead scatter the street, the snow creating a thick blanket over them.

All of you are ready for what hard ships lay ahead. Each one of you is armed to the teeth. Looking around the van, you can spot various types of guns and weapons. Many of the weapons you carried were scavenged of off the corpses of fallen soldiers, making you all a force to be reckoned with. You look down at yourself. A Semi-Automatic hunting rifle sits on your lap. It's been retrofitted with a make shift suppressor and affixed with a bayonet. The bag on your back is packed with all sorts of supplies and equipment. You don't know how long this night might stretch out for, so you've prepared for anything.

You are also carrying a small satchel that it packed to the brim with Molotov Cocktails and C4 explosives. This may seem like an impressive armament, but in reality, it's not.

Your enemy, the Estovakians, leads a multi-billion dollar military war machine. For months, they have been asserting complete naval, aerial and ground dominance over your country. They have a near infinite supply of tanks, jets and soldiers, all of them trained killers. On the other hand, you were armed with a few rifles and some molotovs. The odds were definitely against you.

You look around the van one more time. These hardened men sit before you. All of you have come to accept the dangers that come with the title. You all carried many names. To the Emmerian People, your fellow citizens, you were known as the Rebel Fighters, the Resistance Movement, and above all the Freedom Fighters. To your enemy, you were nothing more than infidels or terrorists.

Among you sit former Doctors, Students, and Police Officers. Like you, their lives have been shattered by the war. Men and women who could not just idly sit by and watch. Normal men and women who took up arms against their oppressors and liberate their people.

Stubborn misfits. Rag tag ne'er dowells Sore losers who couldn't accept defeat. These are the people who made up the resistance. Their goals were unrealistic. Their supplies were pathetic. But their resolve was absolute. In short, they were heroes.

Your hands are trembling. A cold shiver travels down your spine. You did well at maintaining a relatively firm composure. Not showing a hint of emotion or weakness. But deep down inside, you were terrified. This would be the first time you'd be involved in an operation of this scale.

"Hey, Anon. How you holding up?"

The voice belongs to your buddy Mac. His gruff voice was like music to your ears.

"I-I'm doing alright." you grunt

He hands you a flask of alcohol, which you down as fast as you can. The alcohol burns your throat as it passes. Mac gives you a pat on the back.

He pulls out a small wooden box from his bag. It contains a plethora of fine hand rolled cigars. "I've been saving these puppies for long time, and I'll be damned if I die before having one of these."

He hands them out to everyone, "I hand rolled them myself, just for you ladies." You light yours, savoring the unique taste. You weren't much of a smoker or drinker, but you found them to be excellent escapes from the fires of war. You all crack a few jokes in an attempt to ease the tension, your mind slipping into ease. In the back of your mind you start to question the contents of Mac's hand rolled cigars. That bastard always has a tendency to pull stupid stunts. You juggle the thought for a bit before dismissing it.

Right now, you're deep in the city. Driving down various side streets, avoiding the main roads as much as possible. Off in the distance, you can make out a platoon of Estovakian soldiers. You've reached your destination. The driver pulls into a dark alley way before killing the engine.

"Alright listen up! Tonight our military is launching 'Operation: Free Gracemeria'. They've finally amassed a force big enough to try and drive these bastards out of our country. They're giving them hell right now! And we have an obligation to help in any way we can!"

His voice is booming and full of charisma.

"The Stovie's have been using a bridge just a few miles north of here to transport all sorts of troops and supplies into our city. This city is a key stepping stone for the road for liberation; so it's crucial that we maintain dominance over this city. Our military is dead locked in an intense firefight downtown; they're giving them everything they got and we're still getting our asses handed to us!"

He points off in the distance where several explosions can be seen and heard

"But that's where you come in. We're going to cut off their supply lines, effectively crippling them. You're going to use the sewers to sneak under their lines of defense and get to that bridge. If all goes well you should meet up with the other cells just along the river banks. Just remember; the one and only objective of this mission is to take out that bridge. I don't care how you get it done, just make sure it happens! Understand?!"

You all nod in agreement

"Alright, this is as far as I can take you. You've gotta book it the rest of the way. Tune your radios to Channel 140.85. That's our cell's channel. I don't wanna hear nothing about any complications, you hear? I'll be waiting for you here in 20 hours, and I expect all to see all of you here in one piece when I get back. Understand?"

You all silently agree.

"Alright, I'm heading back. Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other. May the golden king smile upon you us."

You disembark from the van, unloading that little equipment you can carry. The driver gives off one last salute before speeding back down the road. Your first issue is to check all your weapons and gear. You check your rifle, making sure it's functioning properly and fully loaded. You remove the sheath on the bayonet, revealing the sharp blade. Grabbing some empty beer bottles from your bag, you get to work on making Molotov Cocktails. You make a about a dozen and re-distribute them among the group. You double check your work one last time, before readying up.

"We ready to go?" Mac asks

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. Let's head out. We've got a lot of ground between us and the bridge."

You start your trek north. The group moves as silently as possible. Only speaking when it as absolutely necessary. As you travel the broken city streets, you come face to face with the horrors of war. As a testament to the fighting that took place here, corpses litter the street. The bodies of women, children and elderly are piled up on top of each other. Any able bodied men that did not escape the initial raids were rounded up and sent to labor camps. You recall the first few nights of the Estovakian's invasion. Raids were held on a daily basis. Innocent People were killed in the streets. Families were separated. All hell broke loose.

To see the aftermath in such a verdant state… It's truly a disturbing sight. Even right now, the city is still heavily occupied by Estovakians. Throughout the city there are several military checkpoints. Each one houses a small squadron of enemies ready to fight. But by remaining in the shadows of side streets and alley ways, you are able to avoid enemy detection.

The two militaries are locked in combat just a few blocks over. You can hear tanks and vehicles scurrying around you. On the main roads, you watch as Estovakian troops are ushered into battle.

The fact that at any moment, your position could be revealed? It's unnerving. You aren't cut out for these stealth types of missions. Your ears are ravaged by the sounds of jet fighters fighting for aerial dominance. You walk for what feels like miles before stopping.

"Alright." Mac whispers. "This is it." He brushes the thick layer of snow off the ground, revealing a sewer man hole. "This is our ticket in. Hey, Anon!"

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Use your wrench, get that shit open." You do as you're told in a matter of seconds. When you remove the cover, a pungent odor fills your senses. It's absolutely repulsive, giving you nausea

"Ughh…What the fuck man."

"You're just gonna have to deal with it."

The group enters the sewer. One by one they descend into the labyrinth below. You are the last to descend, covering the man hole after you.

Mac pulls out an old map from his pocket. He uses a zippo lighter to provide light. "This here's a map of the sewers. We nabbed it from last month's raid on city hall."

He pauses for a moment.

"We lost a lot of good men trying to get this piece of paper...Let's make it count. Come on, this way!" He leads the group down the sewer. The deeper and deeper you progress, the more and more it seems like a labyrinth. You take point, a flash light affixed to your rifle provides ample light.

You were about to turn a corner when someone pulls you back, causing you to trip and fall face first into the sewer water.

"Wh-" Before you have a chance to say anything, a Freedom Fighter muzzles your mouth.

"Shut up! Shut up! Listen!" he exclaims.

Focusing your hearing can barely hear two voices in the distance. Slowly but surely, they approach. Eventually you are able to distinguish two different voices. Both of them speaking in Estovakian, a language you cannot understand.

"Shit!" you whisper. "Nobody said there were patrols down here!"

"Nobody said there weren't any either."

"It sounds there are only 2 guys. We can take em!"

"Don't waste your ammo!"

"Shh! They're headed this way!"

"Shut up! Shut up! I can see them!"

"What the fuck are you doing in the open? Hide!"

You all take positions, finding hiding spots within the sewer's tunnels. You hide behind a barrel on the walkway

The two patrol men come into view. They're too distracted with their conversation to even notice you.

When they are in within reach, you grab one of the patrolmen, catching him completely by surprise. All the meanwhile, the other resistance fighters grab the other.

You hold the patrol man in a choke hold, while the others bludgeon him. Many of them are using the butts of their rifles. One freedom fighter uses a lead pipe he found on the ground.

You watch as the other patrol man suffers a similar fate

The man is desperately trying to break free of your choke hold. You let go of the man, dropping him to the floor. The others begin to curb stomp him. Then you un-sling your rifle and smash his face with the butt of your rifle. Then, you flip it around and proceed to stab him repeatedly with the bayonet. You can feel the blade break and penetrate his rib cage. Soon enough, he is little more than a bloody mess of flesh and bone. Hardly recognizable anymore.

"Dibs." You crouch down to the body. You take as much as you can from it. Clothes, money, weapons, shoes, and any valuables. Everything. You stuff everything in your bag.

You almost feel over encumbered and unable to run!

When you're finished collecting your loot, he is left with little more than his underwear

Finally, you collect the dog tags from both of the fallen soldiers. Examining the dog tags, you realize both of the patrolmen were no older than 18. You care little of it, and instead stuff the dog tags into your pocket. You like to collect the dog tags of enemies you've helped eliminate. Almost as it was a trophy collection.

"You done?" Mac asks.

"Yeah. Let's go." You brush yourself off and fall back into formation.

You traveled the labirynth for hours. By now, the thick stench of raw sewage has been forever burned into your nose. You've thrown up at least three time because of it. Luckily, you've yet to come across any more bad guys.

But you grew exhausted. Almost losing hope on every finding an exit. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the sewer stood a storm drain dumped into the local river basin It would lead you right to the bridge

"Here! Over here!"

"There it is! The exit!"

"Where are the other resistance cells?"

"They're on the other side of the gate! Right?"

"Fuck! It's welded shut! I can't get it open!"

"Use C4!"

"Anon! Get over here!"

You run over to the gate. "I'm on it!" You pull out your satchel and begin the planting process.

Before the war, you were a student at the local University. You studied engineering and was one of the higher ranking students. Every now and then you even managed to place on the dean's list. It's only natural that they would place you in charge of explosives. Anyone else would probably blow themselves up in the process.

Following orders you place a small C4 charge on the welded gate. You usher the others to a safe enough distance. You grab the detonator and prepare for detonation

"Ready?!" You yell to the rebels

The Rebels give you the thumbs up. You cover your ears

"Detonation in Three!….Two!….One!…."

The explosion knocks the gate clean off its hinges. The shock wave nearly topples you over. But you're quick to recover. You grab your rifle and quickly dash out the exit. The resistance is following close behind.

Jumping out the sewer drain throws you into the canal basin The water is only knee deep, but it is near freezing. Quickly you wade to the near concrete shoreline. You stop for a second and notice it has stopped snowing.

The sky has cleared.

Looking up, you see the pitch black sky.

It is littered with hundreds of glimmering stars. All while the full moon hangs proudly overhead. The city's main power grid have all been shut down. What little electricity that runs throughout the city is heavily restricted by the Estovakians. You take note that the bridge is one of the few areas that still has power. Should you try to approach the bridge, the street light's would surely give your position away. Thus your highest priority would be knocking out the power lines to the bridge.

You look up to the huge suspension bridge. It's one of the largest bridges in the city. At one point, thousands of commuters would cross this very bridge every day. It stands as a monument to your people and it's way of life. Now? It must be demolished.

"Anon! Let's fucking go! We're leaving!" You take one last good look at the bridge. One last good look at the night sky. You grab your things and follow the others.

Venturing off into the darkness once more.


	2. Chapter 2

The thick snow crunches underneath your boots. You've been walking for close to an eternity. The wind has picked up, howling violently making it almost impossible to hear anything. Your small group of fighters travels along the canal basin. It is pitch black, and you rely solely on the moonlight to see. The cool scent of salt water is a welcome contrast to the repulsive sewer stench. You take a whiff of your clothes, the stench of sewer waste and fecal matter fill your nostrils.

"…Holy shit…

Since the start of the war, many of the modern luxuries you took for granted were stripped from you. Clean clothes was one of them. It was bad enough already; but now it was going to take you weeks to get rid of this stench. You look down at your leather boots. You had just recently polished them to a glimmering shine, but now they are covered in muck and grime.

"…The shit we have put up with."

Mac jabs you in the shoulder. "It will all be worth it Anon. One day." He points to the city in the distance, the fighting is still rampant. "Soon, this city will be ours once more. We'll know peace once again." The thought brings a warm smile to your face. It's what you've all been fighting for. What you've sacrificed so much for.

Soon enough, a flurry of lit structures comes into view. Several power transformers and generators are surrounding the building. Power lines that lead from the structure heads towards the bridge. You use a pair of binoculars to get a better view. It seems like a half dozen men are manned at the checkpoint. They are armed with assault rifles and small arms. It definitely seems like a feasible force.

"Alright! Listen up!" Mac shouts. "I've contacted the other cell's via radio. Their on the other side of the canal. They've already started plant C4 charges along the support beams. However! They cannot proceed any further than where they are now."

He points at the spot lights that are situated on the checkpoint

"In order for this operation to be successful, we need to take out the power around here. The other cell will finish placing their charges. And only then will we have enough power to take out the bridge." He looks at you.

"Anonymous. They tell me that their C4's are synced with your detonator."

You give him a reassuring nod.

You sit position behind an pile of scrap metal. Probably the remains of a downed aircraft. Your rifle sits in your hands, all at the ready. You've since moved up and closer to the checkpoint The enemies are in plain sight. They sit lounging around a makeshift bon fire, chatting about.

A few other men crouch by your side. You note that one of them carries an old M60 Machine Gun. He probably picked it up from one of the old armories scattered throughout the city.

You sit and wait patiently. The cold nipping away at your exposed skin.

"Any minute now. Just hold steady." The machine gunner tells you. His voice is firm and verdant It only reassures your faith in these men and their abilities.

Adjacent to the check point stands an old building. You can just barely make out the silhouettes of the other rebels on the rooftop against the moonlight. They throw several Molotov cocktails onto the enemies below. As the bottles shatter, they engulf the soldiers in flames. The machine gunner next to you starts firing rounds at the enemy.

The heavy chugging of the machine gun is deafening. Regardless, you pull up your rifle and do the same. Rebels from atop the building pick off the enemy one by one. They didn't stand much of a chance and the skirmish ceases as soon as it began. Once the coast it clear, you move into to get a better view of your 'work' Their bodies lay in a pool of their own blood. It gave you an immense sense of satisfaction. The team rummages throughout the checkpoint. Grabbing whatever they could find. They find a plethora of explosives, weapons and supplies. They all hand you whatever explosive they can, and you stuff them into your satchel.

You turn your attention to the power generator that sits in the middle of the checkpoint. It hums quietly with electricity. "Anon, take care of it!" With a quick nod; you move over to the generator. You place a small charge and make the proper adjustments to the detonator. Backing away a reasonable distance after doing so.

You produce the detonator from your satchel.

"Clear!"

You flick the switch on the detonator. The C4 detonates in a large explosion. Leaving the area covered in smoke and immediately, the area loses power and goes pitch black

watch?v=BBcPpHDJ4yQ

YES!

Objective Completed : Generator Destroyed!

CHARISMA +25

"Alright! Let's head out! No doubt the Stovie's heard the blast. They'll be here any minute! Let's go!" The group gathers itself before heading out to the bridge. You gaze around. The entire city is pitch black now. And for the first time in what seems like ages, you're able to see into the night sky clearly. The stars dancing carelessly in the night. The light from the full moon is just enough to make out the silhouette of the bridge.

It was still a short walk away. As you begin the monotonous trek, your mind starts to wander.

You recall when this all began. Those first few days after the initial invasion were the worst. Without warning, Estovakian forces deployed throughout the entire country. They ran rampant about the streets, committing horrible war crimes.

People were being executed in the streets. Families were separated. Women and young girls were held at mercy to the lusty soldiers. Men and boys were sent to labor camps throughout the country. Never to be heard from again. Entire cities were leveled.

The bridge stands before you. A few months ago you stood atop of the bridge. You had just gotten confirmation that your family had been executed. With little else to live for, you had decided to take your own life. You stood at the ledge, ready to jump into the water below. The fall could easily kill you. You were pulled back to safety before you could do it.

The stranger that saved your life that day? His name was Makarov Petrenko.

Mac, for short.

He scolded you for even considering suicide. He ushered you to rethink your actions. Instead of throwing away your life, you should give it to your people. To fight in the resistance. You military was a shadow of what it once was. It was up to you to fight. Fight the foreign invaders.

Fight for a bright future.

Fight for a tomorrow.

After trekking through the labyrinth of the city, you finally arrive at your destination. You get a sinking feeling in your gut as you look down the stretch of road. This is it.

At this hour, the bridge has the least amount of security. There is no power. All the street lights are off. The area is nearly pitch black. They don't suspect a thing.

Mac rallies the group together. They hand out knives and make shift suppressors. Attaching them to their weapons. Many simply used soda cans or oil filters to hide the muzzle flash. You question the effectiveness of such tactics. Mac looks to you.

"Do you have enough to finish the job?"

You make inventory of you satchel."It's not enough to take out the entire bridge. But we have just enough to make it impassable for the Stovies."

"Good." He gives you a friendly jab on the shoulder. "Make sure you keep your head down. Without you, this whole operation is FUBAR."

"Heh."

He looks onto the waiting freedom fighters. "Gentlemen, We've fought a whole bunch of these. So I know you know what to do."

You chuckle a bit. 'A whole bunch of these' is an understatement.

"But indulge me…. Move quickly, watch your back, cover your buddies, don't bunch up. And for heaven's sake, don't stop until we reach the other side. May the golden king smile upon us." And with that, you all moved out onto the bridge.

You moved quickly and with grace. Soldiers where stations far apart from each other. The few guards you encountered were taken out with style. They were shot with suppressed weapons, stabbed, or sometimes just pushed off the bridge. There were several cars still parked on the bridge. You bobbed and weaved throughout them to avoid the enemy. You were able to maintain your cover this way. The group advanced forward, dealing with any resistance; while you stayed behind. You hobbled across the bridge. After picking up extra gear at the enemy checkpoint, you found yourself over encumbered and unable to run. The bridge was held up by dozens of suspension lines that ran alongside it. Those where your targets. At each suspension cable you inconspicuously planted a small charge of C4.

It was a long and pain staking process. The cold wind nearly gave your hands frostbite. Slowly, but surely you made your way across the bridge.

Arriving at the half way mark, you begin placing another charge of C4. Your mind wanders. You could picture it in your mind. Envisioning how your life would be without this god damned war. Your goal is so close, you nearly see it. A smug grin makes its way onto your face.

"Finally." You sigh to yourself

It finally ends.

"Shit! We've got company!"

"Stovies! To the north!"

"Fuck! I see vehicles!"

"Load the RPG's!"

Your day dream is cut short by the cold reality. Your heart sinks as you look down the road ahead. It seems the knife cut both ways. The veil of darkness was effective in concealing your approach to the bridge. The Estovakian's pitted the same tactic against you.

"It looks like an entire fucking platoon!"

"We're fucked!"

"What do we do?!"

"Should we turn back?!"

"It's no use! We're sandwiched on both sides!"

"No! Not one step back!" He shouts. "Stand your ground!" Lighting a Molotov, he chucks it at the approaching forces. You watch as the burning bottle hurdles towards your enemies. It hit's its mark; Shattering against the hood of a jeep, and lighting its occupants on fire.

There's a brief moment of stillness. It's unnerving.

That silence is soon broken. Both sides erupt in intense gunfire. Molotovs and White Phosphorus grenades are exchanged. You watch in horror as one of your comrades is caught in the flames. The smell of burning human flesh is horrible. His yells are ear piercing. Something you'd not soon forget.

You pull up your rifle and take aim. You took aim at anything that moved and fired as fast as you could. Some of your rounds hit their mark. Dropping several enemies to their feet. Dashing behind a car, you fumble around the pockets in your vest. Exchanging the magazine in your rifle for a fresh one. Rounds whizzed past above your head.

The machine gunner from before was set up next to you. He sprayed a storm of rounds into the street without stopping. The machine gun was deafening as ever. You had to cover your ears this time. He stayed out of cover for a while, chugging rounds at the enemy. They dropped like flies.

But to stay out of cover like that proved to be fatal. He was shot twice, both rounds landing in his head. As the bullet's made impact, they splatter his blood all over you. His body dropped to the floor, twitching uncontrollably. His head was nothing more than a gory mess of tissue and skin. You nearly vomit.

Looking around, you spot Mac lighting another Molotov.

"Mac! Mac!" you shout. "What the fuck do I do with the rest of this!?"You gesture are the satchels fill with C4's charges.

"Plant them! Plant them all!" You nod, and begin to do so.

The Estovakian's proved to be too much. Their barrage of troops and LAV's was too much for your feeble force One by one, the rebel fighters are shot down. You admire your fallen comrades. Each one of them fought bravely to their last breath.

You finish placing the final charge, and look for Mac to receive more orders. You spot Mac firing his assault rifle at the enemy."Mac! I've placed the charges! What the fuck do I do!?" He turns you. Before he has a chance to say anything, three bullets tear through his chest. He drops to the ground.

"Mac! Mac!" You break from cover, running over to Mac's aid.

Big mistake.

You were the last man standing, making you an excellent target. As you dashed across cover, you heard an onslaught of bullets coming your way.

You jumped for it.

Landing, you felt a single bullet tear through your shin. Jolts of pain erupt from your leg. It feels like the bone was shattered. You try your best to ignore the pain and crawl over to Mac.

"Mac! Mac! You're gonna be alright! Just stay with me!" You hold the dying man in your arms. You try your best to carry him, but your leg prevents you from doing so.

"We're gonna pull out of this Mac! We always do! We can do this! Mac? Mac?!" His warm blood dripping onto your frostbitten hands He doesn't respond. Instead, he simply gurgles up blood. His eyes stare into yours. It's as if he's looking beyond you. Beyond himself.

He becomes limp.

And just like that.

He's gone.

The enemy thinks you'rw dead. You watch as they start to move in closer. Executing any incapacitated Rebels.

Is it really going to end here?

No.

You'd be damned if you let it end like this. You fumble around your bag once more. Producing the detonator. This is going to end on your own terms.

You gaze into the night sky. The moon hanging proudly overhead, almost like a sentient guard.

You vision is obscured by tears. But these are not tears of pain. But of joy.

One day, the people here will be liberated. The people will know peace and freedom once more. The beautiful country of Emmeria belongs to you. The Emmerian people. And only you.

Thanks to the efforts of people like the ones who gave their lives here today. You take great pride knowing that you became a part of this. You hold everyone that took part of this operation with the utmost respect.

You hold the detonator in your trembling arms.

"I'm sorry."

You clutch the detonator to your chest, and flip the switch.


	3. Chapter 3

Rebels in Equestria 3 - REDUX

You felt the shock wave from the explosion. The sheer force from the blast felt like it was shattering every bone in your body. You witnessed the fiery explosion claim the lives of others just as it began to claim yours.  
For just a split second you felt it all. The sorrow and joy. The regrets. And above all, the pain. Both physically and mentally, you suffered. A pain so unbearable, it made you yearn for death. It was just a split second before your inevitable death. An event that at this point, seemed farther away than your childhood.  
You felt regret for your actions. Remorse for your decisions And sorrow for your loved your journey ends here. You become nothing more than a casualty. An insignificant loss. A statistic. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide your true emotions. You've served your time in hell. And this was your ticket blast takes it's toll and extinguishes your life. You were free. Finally.  
But what of the others?  
What of the hundreds of people who were stuck in this hell ridden place that they once knew as their home? Regret fills your very soul. You get this unshakeable feeling that you've abandoned them. Could you have done more? Could there have been another way?

Maybe. But you'll never know for sure. At this point, you're nothing more than a lost soul wandering in limbo. What else is there for you?  
Religion never was a factor in your decisions. But is there really a god? Does he truly reside in heaven, judging your every action?  
What did he think of you? Will he grace your noble efforts? Will you live out the rest of your time in paradise?  
Or will he deem you unfit for such privileges. Doomed to spend the rest of eternity burning in the fires of 's enough blood on your hands for it to very be so.  
It's surreal. To wander in limbo is the only equivalent of having all your senses striped from you You're left with nothing but your very soul as you wander the impenetrable darkness. This is what death must be like. Truly it is an unreal state. You wander limbo without any senses to guide you.  
Death; it's a strange place. A place where you don't exist. Yet a place where you can truly find yourself. Left with nothing but your thoughts and your very soul. [spoiler] It's maddening. [/spoiler]  
As you wander in the infinite abyss that is limbo, you recollect on yourself. Carefully analyzing and questioning every decision you've ever made.  
Over the course of the war, you've committed horrible atrocities. Acts of inhumanity fueled by hate and vengeance You've done things you'd never imagine yourself doing to another living being.  
Eleven months.  
Eleven months is all it took for your life to end.  
In that short amount of time, you've seen enough death and suffering to last you a lifetime, and then some. Some of it was of your own hand. But all that bloodshed.  
Did it really accomplish anything?  
Was fighting really the best option? Could you have done anything else? You weren't a member of the military, nor a simple civilian. No. You were part of something different. Something bigger than yourself. An underground resistance. A rebellion. A rag tag group of freedom fighters. With your fellow country men you "fought" day in and day out for the name of freedom. With nothing but the pathetic hope that your life would one day return to how it once was. Praying for a swift end to the war that has claimed so much.  
Praying for the day that your children may once again live life without the fear of oppression. You fought each night in hopes that you could witness a new day. A new beginning. You chased a dream that you knew you would never come true. You even payed the ultimate sacrifice in the name of that day. A day you wouldn't live to see.

…  
No..

It's not fair! Why'd those Stovie bastards have to show up! Those fuckers! They stole everything from you! They destroyed your home! They stole your friends and killed your family! They even cost you your very life! This isn't what you wanted from life. It's not what you can accomplish. It's just not fair..  
You didn't want to have to join a resistance! This isn't it! This wasn't how it was supposed to be!  
You have nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to go back to.  
There is no hope back there. No.  
Not on Emmeria.  
Not on that dammned place.  
This isn't what you want. You don't want to go back. You don't want to start over!

"I just want... another chance."

…

Slowly but surely you feel your pulse start back up. It's slow and labored rhythm is absolutely captivating. Your heart jump starts itself back up, and with it, a new beginning. One by one, your senses return to you.  
Birds. You can hear the songs of birds all aorund you. The sounds rushing water fills your ears. There must be a stream nearby!  
Light then floods your eyes. Blinding white light clouds your vision. With time, your eyes adjust to the light. Color fills your vision once more. Bright blue skies and beautiful white clouds are in sight. A cool breeze brushes against your skin. It's a refreshing sensation that sends a shiver down your spine and leaves your hairs on end. You can feel the soft grass underneath you. The long blades of grass itch against your neck. With the slight breeze, it carries the scent of a cool autumn day. Fallen leaves gust around and hit against you.  
You lie on the ground motionless as you take in this scene. Focusing your newly regained senses as much as you can. Listening for even the smallest indicator...

…  
You wait..  
And listen. But..  
Nothing. No gunshots. No explosions. No screaming. But most importantly, [spoiler] no war. [/spoiler] Is this heaven? You sit yourself up and check the area.  
You've awoken smack dab in the middle of a forest clearing. A cool breeze sways the tall grass with grace. The forest is bright with golden leaves. Autumn is in full swing here. You scan yourself for any wounds or other ailments. But amazingly you can't find anything. The wound on your leg, along with the rest of your body are almost completely healed. Deep scars are still here left as a testament to your war time endeavors.  
Almost by second nature you scan your surroundings once more. Checking along the treetops and bush lines. But there's no sign of anyone else here. With that small sense of security, you relax your guard. A slight glimmer nearby catches your eye. It's shine is hidden within the dancing blades of grass. It captivates you and draws your attention. Pushing yourself off the ground, you make your way towards it.  
You try to make your way to the light, but find it difficult to move about. Every muscle in your body ache's in your senses feel like they've been over loaded. One of your legs cramp up, and you fall face first onto the ground.  
"F-Fuuuuck!"  
Your voice is sore and dry. It's coarse sounds carry echo throughout the forest. You cough up a mix of phlegm and blood. The vocal chords in your throat feel like they're on fire! Any attempts to speak only lead to a slight wheeze. You've thrown out your voice.  
Despite all of this, you push onwards, your curiosity getting the best of you. You do your best to crawl towards your destination, ignoring the aches as best as you can. Clearing the tall grass out of the way you find the source of the shine. It was the polished finish of your revolver that caught the bright sun. It, along with the rest of your gear, was neatly placed out in front of you.  
Right now isn't the best time to question this. Without further hesitation you delve into your equipment. There are several bags and satchels strewn about. Digging inside you find all of your old weapons and munitions. All of them fully loaded and ready to go. Within the other satchels, you produce various explosives and other tools. You don as much gear as you can, tossing the rest into a rucksack. You equip the automatic rifle and sling the other over your back.  
By now, your cramps have subsided. You take in your surroundings one last time. Desperately trying to piece together today's events so far. …  
Where are you? Are you dead? How did you get here? What of the others?  
You pull your radio from it's holster and flick it on to one of the emergency channels. You hold it close to your ears, expecting to hear the voices of your comrades. … But you're met with nothing but silence.  
"Hello?!" you shout. Your voice cracking at it's peak.

"Wolverine Squadron!"

"Wolverine Squadron!? Respond! Please respond!"

Your anxiety grows. Flipping through the other channels yields similar results. Nothing but silence. Tch. It must be the reception. A radio signal can only travel so far. And the interference from this dense forest makes it near impossible for it to travel farther than a few hundred yards. Maybe you're not alone here. You probably just need a better reception. A high vantage point to broadcast from.  
You scan the horizon. While the treeline may be beautiful, it's nuisance at this point. The only land mark you can make out is the silhouette of a small maintain. It doesn't seem too far off into the horizon. Probably a couple miles or so. You juggle your options in your mind and recap the situation in your mind.  
Despite having died in a terrible "accident", you've awoken up to see a new day. You're surrounded by what seems like miles of forest in every direction. You don't know who or what is out there. You'd like to sit it out and wait for help. But it's still unclear whether you're alone here or not. To wait here would be foolish. It seems the only course of action is to press onwards. Before you set out, you take a moment to adjust your equipment. You had been dressed for nocturnal urban environments. While they were effective on the streets of Tarvo City, your dark gray outfit offered little use in the autumn woods.  
You find your way to a nearby brook. The cool water feels invigorating. You grab some mud that was collecting at the bottom of the waterbed, smearing it across your skin and clothing. The thick mud leaves your clothes a dirty brown, giving some extra against the trees. With your weapons and gear in tow, you finally set out. You use the brook as your guide, following it upstream towards the mountain. With every step, you can hear leaves crunch underneath the soles of your boots. The forest is thick with various flora and fauna. As you travel, you can point out several small critters and birds. All of them scurry away at the sight of you.  
"Heh." something you've become all to familiar with.  
Months of living with the resistance has changed you. The constant work and movement has kept you in top physical form. You cut through the dense forest with speed and grace. The constant blur of golden leaves becomes monotonous. Your mind begins to wander as you travel.  
What really happened? Why are you alive right now? Is this the after life? Could this really be heaven? Or is this just some cruel joke played by a mischievous god? Where is everyone else? Have they arrived in this remote land as well? Is it possible that they've already regrouped? Knowing those guys, they've probably already started another war here.  
All of which ultimately reminds you... How are things going back in Emmeria? Was the operation successful? Where the Estovakians finally driven out of your home? Has peace finally graced your home? You hope for nothing but a complete victory. Continuing forward, you maintain a cool and collective attitude. Doing your best to cast aside any notions of doubt or anxiety.  
As you travel farther upstream, the bush thickens, hindering your progress. The thick tree canopy barely allows any sunlight to pierce the forest floor. The setting sun only makes matters even worse. Any sane person would call it quits at this point. But you've been through worse. Instead, you take a moment to rest. A large rock plastered on the stream's bank catches your attention. You take a seat and relax for just a moment. Cupping your hands you take a drink from the stream. The water tastes pure and refreshes your very soul. This water is a godsend compared to the filtered sewer water you had to live with.  
You let out a hearty laugh. Never once did you imagine yourself having to rely on the sewers for shelter and substance. As the sun is begins to set; light becomes scarce. The night's first stars begin to peek through the twilight sky. You activate the flashlight on your rifle's end. It's bright light is nearly blinding in the darkness. But you're not satisfied with just a simple flashlight. Digging through your bag you produce a small glow stick. You snap it and shake it vigorously. It's green chemical glow fascinates you even as an adult. You tie one around your neck and keep digging through your bag.  
At the very bottom of your bag, you find a small chocolate bar. You smirk in delight. You've been saving this for a rainy day, but what better time than now? The chocolate is absolutely delicious, and you savor every bite as if it were your last. Because in all reality, this silence is nerve racking. You've grown accustomed to the constant hardships of a war ridden nation. Day in and day out, you grew accustomed to the constant beat of gunfire. Much to your dismay, this silence is broken. Of in the distance, you hear leaves rustling in the bush. Without an ounce of hesitation you ready your rifle. You aim your rifle towards the tree line.  
"Don't fucking try anything! I'm armed! Come out! Nice and slow!" you shout But despite your warnings, the sounds moves around the bush. You can hear twigs snapping and tree's being displaced as it circles around you.  
"Don't fucking test me! I'll blow your fucking head off!" You follow the sounds with your rifle. They circle around you once more before stopping at the bush nearest to you. The bright flashlight does little to penetrate the thick tree line. But within the impenetrable darkness the flashlight catches the reflection of a pair of eyes.  
"Y-You motherfucker! Get out here!"  
It's then when you hear a low growl. It's an eerie sound that sends chills down your spine. You recognize it as none other than a lion's growl. The rifle's light dances as you struggle to keep the weapon steady. Your mind races with questions. But before you have a chance to lull them over, the beast comes into view. It slowly steps out of the tree line and into your sights.  
"W-What the f-fuck..." you mutter.  
You gaze onto the beast that stands before you. What seems like a horrible cross over between a lion and several other creatures. Dumbstruck, you stand motionless before what stands before you. He raises his scorpion tail up high. The thick stench of its poison fills the air. It slowly steps forward, bearing it's fangs.  
"No...No...No!...No! No! No!" you yell. Your disbelief transforms into anger.  
That...that thing! It's not real! It can't be! No! It's fucking impossible! It's just a bunch of shit!  
It steps forward once more and lets forth a proud roar. A cry that is absolutely deafening, and could be heard for miles. But you've had enough of this bullshit. You release the safety and pull the trigger. Heavy chugging of your rifle is almost as loud as the bastards roar. You disregard any previous notions of proper marksmanship and spray bullets in that general direction. With a steady grip you manage the rifle's recoil as best as you can. Poor bastard never knew what hit him. The rifle snaps back as you empty the magazine. Before you, the beast lies slumped over the ground. His body is covered in wounds as he slumps in a pool of his own blood. The scorpion tail still twitches with life. You take one last look at the beast before you snap with anger.  
"No!" you shout in disbelief. Your voice thick and stumble over to the beast, kicking it as hard as you can."You! You motherfucker! No! No!" With your side arm you end his suffering. You kick the lifeless corpse. This beast. This thing. It's a very damnation of god's natural order. What worries you is the fact that you've awoken in a land that harbor's such a beast. This must be the land of the damned. The place of reckoning. A land where the very laws set forth by nature no longer apply. A place where logic doesn't exist. A land inhabited by mythical beings all ready to kill. Worst of all, you have no idea what lurks beyond the next corner. Other than a few arms here and there, you have little to defend yourself against the unknown.  
Your ear catches a low hissing sound. Almost as if something was wheezing and having trouble breathing. The sound, just barely in ear shot, is coming from the far corner of the clearing. Without hesitation, you reload your weapon and fire into the direction of the sounds. Picking up your things as quickly as you can, you sprint back up the stream. With your adrenaline pumping, you pick up the pace and truck through the forest. Occasionally you turn around just to check if anything was following you. And at any hunch of another presence, you fire you fire your rifle into the darkness, hoping to kill whatever lies in wait. You arrive at the foot of the mountain. With all your gear in tow, the ascent becomes difficult, but is feasible none the less. The air becomes cold, and winds start to howl. Luckily, your side of the mountain is a smooth ascent. No jagged cliffs here.  
Your exposed skin starts to burn with each passing moment. So much so that your lose feeling in your hands. But you continue on so, finally reaching the summit. You turn around, rifle in hand, to ensure you hadn't been followed. Frantically, you aim your rifle back and forth.  
But much to your relief, you're alone. You glance around at the summit A small natural springs pumps outs a steady stream of water. Several small tree and bushes gather about the source. The view up here is amazing. And you take a moment to take it all in. The surrounding forest stretches for miles in every direction. And just before the horizon, you can make out the forest's edge. Giving way to rolling country sides. The land here is raw and untamed. You are as far from home as you could ever be. You find the highest point on the summit and take a seat on the rocky ground. You produce your radio.

"Wolverine Squadron!"

...

"Wolverine Squadron! Respond!"

…

"Respond! Please respond!"

…

"Wolverine Squadron?! Phoenix Squadron?! Anyone! Respond! Please respond!"

… You try. And try. And try. But each call for help only brings about nothing but silence. Tears well up in your eyes as you bury your head in your hands. Ultimately falling into hysterics. The radio didn't work. Your only idea was a failure. You're stuck here. Alone.

You lull it all over in your mind. You've been through hell and back. Awoke in a god forsaken forest with little to no supplies. And no one at your side. But that doesn't mean it has to end here. There has to be a reason you're here. Right? You've broken the very laws of the natural order. You shouldn't be alive right now. It's strange. You're stuck in a place where you non-existent entity. Your mind struggles to maintain itself. Constantly replaying the last moments on the bridge to itself. The moment you detonated the bombs. The instant you ceased to exist. The moment you killed yourself. And the moment you killed everyone else? Why aren't they here? Why aren't they here with you? Are you truly alone right now? Is all this even real?  
This mountain. This forest. You. Everyone and everything here. Is it all real? Or is it all just a hallucination? Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe this is just hell. Yeah. That's gotta be it.  
And if that's the case. There's no point.  
You produce your pistol. And you feel it's hefty weight. It's polished finish shines in the moonlight. It feels as real, just as everything else does. You put the pistol to your head. The metal barrel prodding against your temple. Tears flowing from your eyes. Your breathing becomes labored. You grit your teeth.

[spoiler] You can't do it. [/spoiler]  
Your hands tremble. You feel light headed as you fall to your knees. Nausea overcomes you and you vomit all over the ground.  
Have you lost your mind?  
[spoiler] No. [/spoiler]  
[spoiler] Not yet. [/spoiler]  
It may or not be real, but whatever this is.. But this is it. It's what you've wanted. Your second chance. You pick yourself up from the puddle of bile. The cold night air pecking at your face. You gather firewood. And with what little you could find, you made a small fire. It barely provides any warmth. But it's enough. If just to keep you company. You dig through your bag once more. Getting a good feeling for your inventory of items.  
During the war, you kept a large backpack with you at all times. You never slept in the same place twice, so it was best to keep everything with you at all times. Among your war supplies, you kept some of your closest mementos. Things like photos, books and journals. As you dig deeper and deeper, you produce an old gameboy in your hands. You let out a soft chuckle. The old gray and green device is absolutely dwarfed by your clammy grip. You find your copy of Tetris, and boot it up. And much to your surprise, the familiar "NINTENDO" logo still appears on screen. The 8-bit music starts playing once more. You tear up. It's nostalgic. And reminiscent almost like meeting an old friend. Using the moon and firelight, you burn through the game once more. Piling brinks with ease.  
During the war, there was little time for comfort. But this was one of the few escapes from reality. A glimpse of your childhood before you. To reject your own world, and delve into another. It was beautiful. You enjoy your time with the game. Cherishing each moment spent. … As the night drags out you gather as much as much firewood available at the clearing. It's small golden flames danced with the howling winds. But the small branches and twigs could only last for so long. You turned off your game when your fire went out. Leaving you only with the black night. You gaze up into it. The stars are beautiful And the moon looks especially marvelous this night.…  
Leo.  
You were born under the zodiac Leo. You scour the skies for the constellation. But you can't find it. You can't find anything for that matter. No Big Dipper No North Star. Nothing. You produce a pack of cigarettes and your Zippo lighter. You light the cigarette. Savoring its smooth flavor. No later than you finish your cigarette, you hear a motion in the darkness. The low hissing noise is back. It sounds like it's coming from all directions.  
Without so much as a second thought you pull up your rifle and begin firing. This time, you fire in small controlled bursts. You flick the flashlight on and aim down the sights, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever is out there. Quickly jolting your rifle back and forth with each sound. But they're fast. And whatever is out there escapes your light. It's unsettling. You empty the magazine and load a new one. You can hear its movements. Whatever is hiding behind the shadows is not alone. There's probably two or three circling about. And they seem to be getting closer. You run through your second magazine in a matter of seconds. This time, you dig through your bag, hoping to find more ammo. But instead, you find something else.  
A flare gun. Yes. Perfect! You ready the gun and aim for the sky. Shutting your eyes tight as you fire it into the sky. It takes a moment for the white phosphorus to kick in, but when it does, it provides a small amount of light. Enough so for you to be able to see around you. There, you can see silhouettes in the distance. You pull up your rifle and take aim. This time spraying at the target.  
You reload your weapon once more and continue firing.  
Beyond the gunfire, you hear a howling scream. And the silhouette falls to the ground. It yells out in pain. Screeching in a loud coarse voice. The other silhouettes call out from the darkness in response. You pull your gun up to the others and fire. You listen out for any signs of hitting your mark. But you get nothing.  
The flare finally extinguishes itself in air. You sling your rifle and pull out the flare gun once more. You can hear the others strafe you and move towards the downed target. All of them screeching at the top of their lungs. It's a horrible sound that is sure to stay with you. You start running towards them. Moving toward the downed target, you reload the flare gun. But you're not fast enough. It takes a few precious seconds to re-fire the gun. And even longer for the flare to ignite within the night sky. And when it does, you arrive at where the target fell. All that remains is a dark pool of blood. You can see the tracks left by the beings as they dragged their comrade away. You aim the rifle down the mountain. Just barely, you can spot the beings crawling down the forest at break neck speeds. Their wounded comrade in tow.  
Fuck.  
They got away.  
You contemplate running after them. But you note their tracks lead back down the mountain and into the forest. To venture in there would surely be option you're not willing to take. Your white flare burns overhead for a few more moments. It slowly parachutes down the mountain side before burning out. Scanning the hilltops you aim for movement. But you come up with nothing. Content, you turn around and start to head back towards your camp site.  
Those things. They were terrifying. And the way they called out to each other. It was wild. Primitive, feral even. You begin to analyze their pattern of attack. Checking the various footprints in the ground. When suddenly, you see it. You see a bright purple light glowing within the forest.  
"What the fuck?" you mutter.  
The purple light begins to glow brighter and brighter. When suddenly a small purple light shoots up from the thick tree line. It shoots up into the night sky and floats back down. It slowly extinguishes itself before another is shot up into the night sky again.  
Its...  
It's a flare!  
You react quickly and fire another white flare into the sky. This time, angling it towards the source of the purple flare. Your flare lights up the night sky. And another purple one is fired up in response. It's someone. Someone has found you. It's a search party! Probably your squad! They must have gotten your SOS calls. Finally, you're going to be out of this hellish nightmare. Without so much as a second thought, you gather your things and makes your way towards the flares. The thought of finding your old comrades brings tears to your eyes. What you wouldn't give to hear the coarse voices of your comrades. Maybe if you're lucky, they'll have some cigars at the ready. Slowly, but surely, you descent down the mountain, firing a steady stream of flares. With your rifle at hand, you trek into the forest once more. In the distance you spot a faint purple light. You turn your flashlight to strobe and trek towards the light.  
"Hey! Hey! Over here!" you shout. You inch your way towards the search party. In the distance, you hear some voices. It's a welcome contrast to the gargled growls you've heard all day.  
"Yo! Mac! Team! Over here! I'm over here!" pressing through the bush you make your way towards the others. Finally, you come face to face with the search party.  
"W-What..." you mutter. Before you stands six small horses. They're about the height of your waist. Each one of them has an oddly colored coat.  
"No...No...No..."  
The small horses, ponies, just stare at you. They're unlike anything you've ever seen before. Their manes look like they've been styled. They carry saddle bags. And they've also got small markings along their hind flanks. One of the first things you notice is the fact that they're all wearing some form of jewelry. Each one of them is a golden necklace with a jewel encrusted in the center. All of them, with the exception of a purple pony, who dons a tiara on it's head. Upon further inspection, you realize the purple and white ponies have horns upon their heads. The yellow and cyan ponies are also sporting a pair of wings. Unicorns and pegasi.  
"W-w-what the fuck." You pull up your rifle. All of you remain in a stand still  
Somehow, you can see it in their eyes as well. You can see the same emotions in their eyes. Disbelief, doubt, curiosity, and above all: Fear. You lock in eye contact with the purple pony for what seems like an eternity. It's studying you. You can feel it's eyes prod all over you. It's maddening.  
The purple pony takes a step towards you. You take a step back. "Woah woah woah!" you shout. It takes maintains eye contact, and gives you a deadpan stare. It takes another step forward before speaking in a foreign language.

Wait… Did it just talk? Did that fucking horse just talk? You stagger back as it moves closer. It carries a soft female voice."Heyheyhey! Stay back! Stay back!" you shout.  
You're not taking any chance with these things. But it doesn't let up. Instead, it begins to trot forward.  
"No! No! Get away! Get the fuck away!" The purple pony turns to speak with the rest of them. They all nod before turning to you. In the corner of your eye, you watch as the orange pony pulls out a rope from it's saddle bag. The purple one starts to yell something out. Suddenly, the purple one's horn begins to glow a bright purple. The same color as the flares. The rope is enveloped in a bright aura as it is levitated into the air.  
"W-What the fuck...No. No! No!" You pull your rifle up and fire a barrage of rounds into the sky. They all flinch. The aura diminishes. You start to step back. Not turning your back on them. The purple one quickly regains it's composure. Quickly it starts it's horn once more. This time, it pulls out a book from her saddlebag and levitates it in front of her. She begins to step forward. Her horn starts to glow a bright purple. The two pegasi start to take flight. They all start to circle you. No. You've been fed up with the bullshit. You pull your rifle up and sprint towards the purple pony. Using your bayonet as a spear, you ram towards her, with nothing less than the full intention of killing her.  
"W-What?!" you shout.  
Your bayonet collides with a wall made of purple aura. The purple pony has a purple force field around you. The sheer force of the impact makes you stagger back for a few moments. But you're quick. You pull the rifle up to your sights and let loose. Spraying a flurry of bullets at the purple horse. That force field she deflects your bullets. You watch in horror as they ricochet of her shield and into the forest nearby. The other ponies flinch as the bullets ricochet near them.  
Just then, the orange pony grabs the rope. She starts forms it into a lasso and throws it towards you. You try shift your aim towards her. But it's too late. The rope ties around your the barrel of your weapon. You fire it off again, but it's no use. She yanks the damned thing right out of your hands. Fuck! They start to circle you. You sprint towards the orange horse and tackle her to the ground. The both of you hit the ground with a loud THUD.  
The orange horse tries to punch and kick you. But it's no use. You easily over power her. After a bit of struggling, you position yourself on top of the orange horse. You pull your arm back to land a punch But it's on use. In those crucial moments, the cyan pony takes flight. She picks up speed and dives right into you. The wind is knocked out of you as she makes contact. She knocks you to the ground before regaining her stance. You can see a coy smirk on her face and she returns to land.  
The ponies all begin talking amongst themselves. If you had to guess, they were probably coordinating their attacks. The assault rifle is only a few feet away from you. This is your chance.  
You make a dive for it.  
But at the last moment, it is enveloped in a blue aura as it's dragged just out of your reach. The rifle is carried back to the white pony, the source of the blue regain your composure. You are completely surrounded by all of them. You've reached a stand off. The purple one starts to shout at you. Probably telling you off.  
You reach for your pistol. The orange pony throws her lasso towards you, and grabs you by the hand. The white one uses her horn and grabs your other hand. They pull in opposite directions, leaving you completely defenseless.  
"No! Y-You fuckers! W-Who the fuck do you think you are Let me go!" You thrash about. As they near you, you flail your legs. You kick up dirt."I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! Let me go! Leave me alone! I didn't do shit!"  
You stared at them all. The looks of fear still lingered in their eyes, just as they did in yours. The purple one smirks as she circles around you. She speaks to her friends before turning to you.  
"Y-You! Assholes! Let me go! Please! Let me go!" But they ignore your cries.  
Instead, they begin to go through your belonging. They ravage through your bag. Pulling out your precious mementos.  
"H-Hey! Leave that shit alone! You hear me!? Drop it! Drop it! Now!"  
Finally, the purple pony turns her attention to you. She speaks to you in a soft tone. She pulls your rifle up to your face, waving it about. She continues to speak to you. Her tone of voice carries confusion. Her horn starts to glow a deep purple.  
"P-Please! Let me go! I-I don't wanna go! Not like this! No!" You watch as the purple pony shoots a bolt of aura at you. As it engulfs you, you begin to lose strength. As if the very life is being sucked out of your body. Soon enough you start to lose your vision and hearing. The ponies' voices start to get muffled out.  
And soon, everything turns to black as they fade out.


	4. Chapter 4

A soft voice calls out to you, awakening you from slumber. "Anonymous?" the voice asks. "Hey, Anonymous. Wake up. It's time."

You groggily rub the sand out of your eyes as you come to. Sleep was a rarity amongst the ranks. And more often than not, you took every chance you could to get at it.

A soft touch prods you shoulder. Careful, and gentle, it undoubtedly belonged to a woman. The pale moonlit was just bright enough to reveal her features. Her pale skin was covered with dirt and scars. Her eyes were a brilliant teal that shined with grace, even in the dead of night.

She produces a thermos and pours you a small cup of coffee.

You allow the feeling of de-ja-vu to pass as you take in your surroundings once more. Is this s a dream?

Once again you find yourself in the back of the moving van. Quickly zooming down an abandoned highway. The rhythmic pitter patter of raindrops against the van's roof brings a sense of ease into your mind.

You glance around and spot the same familiar faces. Rag-tag freedom fighters armed to the teeth with a makeshift arsenal. Everything from hand-crafted pipe bombs to foreign RPG's. You rummage through one of your pockets, finding a pack of cigarettes. The small box has seen better days, but it still proudly reads "LUCKY STRIKE CIGARETTES" across the banner. It's a small luxury in this war; but it was one you could afford to share. Passing the box around, the van soon becomes flooded with cigarette smoke. You offer a light to the coffee girl, but she quietly declines.

She seems distracted. Lost, even.

You were about to ask her what was the matter, when suddenly the window between the van's cabin and cargo bay slips open. His radio floods the room, but he spoke over it with a booming voice.

"Aight. I'm sure you boys know the drill by now, but humor me for the moment." The driver announces as he steers onto an exit ramp. "We're headed to the West Side of the City, and as you know, the Stovies haven't established a steady foothold to this area yet. Their supplies are scarce. And until they do, the forces stationed here are relying on whatever they can loot. The resistance has a reason to believe the Stovies have been using the gas stations along 6th and Hope Ave to fuel a carpool of sorts."

You finish off the last of the cigarette and flick it out of the van. The driver continues on with his speech as you ready yourself.

"Your task is to poke around the around and see what's up. If the intel proves true, you're tasked to destroy this carpool under any means necessary. Alright?"

The van slows to a crawl, and let's out a heavy hiss at it halts. He parks it at the edge of the city limits. Once he kills silences the engine, the sounds of a waging war can be heard deep inside the city.

"This is as far as I'll take you." the driver explains. "You'll have to book it from here."

Your party disembarks.

"If all goes well, I'll meet you all here at dawn."

He starts the engine. It's heavy chugging rings deep throughout the empty streets.

"I expect to see all of you back here when I return. No fuck-ups. You hear? Stay safe."

The van drives away, and you quickly lose sight of it through the heavy rain. You turn to face your fellow squad mates as you make your final preparations for the night.

One of the fighters takes point. It's Mac.

"Alright boys, radios on." he demands. You follow orders and flick the switch on your ear piece. As soon as you do, you ear becomes flooded with noise.

Radio chatter. White noise. Explosion. Gun fire. Men screaming. All in all, an indistinguishable mess of noise.

Mac pulls up his rifle and starts jogging to a nearby alleyway.

"Tune to Channel 141.12!" he shouts over his shoulder.

You oblige, tuning into the near silent channel. Mac's voice fills your ear piece.

"This is out channel for tonight." he shouted, echoed by the radio feed in your ear. "Alright. Stay low, and watch those roof tops. First mark's only a few blocks away."

The group heads further west under the cover of night. The rain picks up. Your parka does little to protect you from the water. You clutch your rifle and tread lightly. Each step echoes with a slushy squeak from your boots.

As you head farther west, the noise of war dwindles. For the military lines ares are currently held on the east side of town. Just on the other side of the canal bridge.

You trail behind the pack, the heavy bag of tools weighs you down some.

The radio comes to life with chatter from your squad.

"Hey. Hey. We're at 4th and Hope. Approaching the point of interest now."

"Anyone got eyes?'

"Yeah, yeah. I see the old gas station, but not much else."

"It's the fucking rain!"

"Shh. Shh! Quiet! You hear that?"

"Sounds like an engine?"

"Maybe it's the carpool?"

Out of breath, you catch up to the rest of your squad. They're perched by the alley's corner.

"Anonymous!" Mac barks.

You take a moment to wheeze out a simple "Yeah?" for a response. One that does little to amuse him.

"We need eyes and ears." he says, pointing to an apartment complex on the other side of the street. "Head to the roof. We'll cover."

Between your gasps for air, you let out a sigh of annoyance. But ultimately do what you're told with little hesitation. You dart across the street and slam against the complexes' wall for cover. A quick glance back shows the rest of the squad vigorously sweeping the street with their sights.

You cart around to the side of the building, to which you find an old fire escape. The climb isn't as daunting as you'd imagined, and you make it to the roof in no time. You perch yourself to the edge of a the rooftop and overlook the streets below.

From here, you see everything. The gas stations loom about a hundred yards to your left, while Mac and the rest of the squad is nestled to the alley on your right. And in front, a huge municipal parking lot is filled to the brim with military vehicles. The lot is completely fenced around by stone walls. It's only entrance is guarded by two Estovakian officers. One smoking a cigar by the gate, and another falling asleep on an MG nest.

"Anonymous!? What's the hold up?" your radio beacons.

"I've got eyes," you whisper into the earpiece. "Looks like the intel was spot on. There's about a dozen cars in that truck in front of you."

"I can't see shit from here." Mac grunts. "There's a wall in the way."

"Yeah. The lot is fenced in, you'd have to go around the wall. There's an entryway about a hundred yards down the road."

"Stovies?" he asks.

"Yeah. Two guys."

"Alright." he scoffs. "Moving out."

You watch as the small squad emerges from the shadows. They make a bee line towards the entryway. They hug the wall for cover and onwards. But they grind to a halt just before reaching the gates.

"What's the hold up?" you whisper into the mic, "You're good! Keep going!"

"It's too dangerous to go any further." Mac replies, "Take out the MG guy. Make it quiet."

You shuffle along to the far end of the rooftop, allowing yourself a clearer view of the man nestled behind the MG nest. You stow your AK and unsling your small hunting rifle along your back. It's small .22 caliber rounds were sufficient. It was accurate, quiet, and quick. And from this distance, it'd be just enough to critically wound the gunner. Resting your rifle on the edge of the rooftop, you aim for the gunner. Zeroing in your sights for the shot.

"Ok. I've got a shot. Ready when you are."

In the corner of your eye, you see the squad ready up. Slowly shifting their way out of cover and towards the gates.

"Take the shot."

You breathe in and pull the trigger. Twice. The kickback from the rifle is manageable to say the least. Two muffled 'pop' erupt from your rifle, and the soldier behind your sights erupts in a pink mist. Quickly afterward, you hear a few gun shots from the ground.

"They're down." Mac calls.

"Good." you reply, "I can't see anyone else from here. So it looks like you're clear."

"Excellent." he replies. "Hey, listen. Can you see the gas station from there?"

You look to the other end of the street, stretching your vision as far as it goes. And off in the distance, you can see the silhouette of the station. "Yeah." you whisper.

"Good. Go scout ahead, plant some charges against the gas lines. We'll meet you there."

"Copy." you whisper.

You set aside your rifle and ready your AK. You start your descent down the fire escape as the rest of the squad moves into the car pool. They soon begin their 'work' on the vehicles.

"I'm on the street." you call, "Making my way towards the station."

"Copy." Mac replies. The sounds of whirring power tools can be heard over his radio feed.

You quickly shuffle between buildings until the target comes into view. It was an old gas station built decades ago. There were a few pumps that were completely overshadowed by huge gas tanks not too far from them.

Tarvo city was industrial in nature. It housed one of the nation's largest ports and industrial complexes. The gas housed here was used to fuel the almost constant fleet of transport trucks that carried goods that flowed through the city.

With your AK set for full auto, you trek into the gas station. The overhead awning shields you from the pouring rain. You remove your parka's hood, and wipe the water off your face. And although you're grateful, you remain ever vigilant. You bob and weave through the pumps and long abandoned cars, making your way to looming fuel tanks in the back.

No hostiles. It's unnerving.

Quickly you scan the surrounding rooftops, searching for any silhouettes. But you find nothing.

Lightning cracks overhead, followed closely by booming thunder. The rain doesn't let up. Fierce winds whiplashes water across your face. The rain stop sting as the smack across your skin.

You pull out a satchel and remove a bundle of plastic explosives. You crawl underneath one of the gas lines leading from a tank and plant it. You've become efficient, and quickly travel down the fuel line. Planting a dozen or so charges. You finish planting the final charge against the base of the tank.

"Alright." you whisper into the radio, "All charges have been plan-"

Gunshots erupt.

"Anonymous! We've got hostiles!" Mac shouts over the radio.

"Where?"

"From your end of the street!" he shouts. "They might not have noticed you yet! Just get to cover! We're on our way!"

You react quickly. Pulling yourself out from underneath the gas tank.

But before you could get to your feet, you feel a sharp pain across the back of your head.

It knocks you out cold.

A bright light burns into your eyes, and your natural reaction is to shield yourself. But try as you might, it proves to be useless. Your arms and legs are bound together by a heavy telekinetic force. It tugs against you whenever you try to move.

Your eyes quickly adjust to the light, paint a bright and vivid scene around you. The ponies from before are still here. But this time, you find yourself along a dirt path nestled along rolling fields. Dawn's golden light is just starting to break over the horizon. The ponies are still here. Talking amongst each other. They whisper back and fro in a strange language unlike anything you've ever heard before.

Small pebbles and grave dig into your face. Your cheeks are scuffed and your lip is slightly bloodied. You feel your wrists and ankles start to become sore with rope burns. The ponies have you hog tied against the gravel.

You gather whatever breath you can. But it proves to be difficult. Your breathing is coarse, and labored. And with every breath, a dull pain erupts from your left side of your chest. It feels as though you've bruised a rib, perhaps you've broken it.

"H-Hey" you whisper. You voice is dry and weak. It doesn't carry very far.

You watch as the purple unicorn paces back and forth frantically. She glances over to you, and double takes in shock when she realizes you've come to. They pause their conversation to approach you. As the purple unicorn approaches, a purple aura surrounds your body. Tightening your binds. She comes face to face with you.

"Let me go." you croak.

She tilts her head in confusion.

The orange pony comes forward and starts poking you in the chest. You flinch in pain as she prods your sore rib. She carries a smug look of pride along her face.

"Untie me!" you shout.

The orange one stammers about, clearly startled. You try against your bindings once more, but they only become tighter. The purple unicorn addresses the rest of the group. They collect their things before starting down the dirt path once more. With her telekinesis, she drags you along. You shout in protest, but for the most part, they don't seem to bat you an eye.

You cuss them out at first. You promise them death threats. You say terrible things to them. But as soon as you realize that didn't work, you try to bargain with them. Pleading. Begging, even.

But they ignore you all the same.

Who are they?

What are they?

What do they want?

A cold shiver runs down your spine, leaving the hairs on your neck on edge. Brutal memories of the war flash before your eyes. You recall coming across the corpses of POW's during your travels.

Military, militia, and ever civilians were all given the same treatment. You'd come across corpses so mutilated and disfigured, they were barely even human. The words of Mac, your late squad leader, echo in your mind.

"You've seen what they've down to our comrades; our fellow brothers and sisters. To them, you are nothing more than a toy. They will break you. And they'll stop at nothing to get even the smallest amount of information out of it. They have no mercy, no remorse, and no limit. Under no circumstances are you to ever be taken hostage. Don't you ever give them that chance. Do I make myself clear?"

Suicide.

Your mind trembles at thought. As you glance around, you find all all your equipment has been stripped from you. The white unicorn is carrying them nearby with he own telekinesis. You let out a small sigh of defeat.

You let up on your struggles and allow yourself to be dragged along the beaten path. In this daylight, you take a moment to study your captors.

Small pastel colored ponies. Each one of them with a unique color pallet and hairstyle. And by the looks of it, each one with a completely different personality.

The entire walk, you've been stared down by the orange pony. Her eyes stabbing daggers into you. She seems uneasy, untrusted, or even hostile.

While on the other hand, the yellow pegasus seems to be a bit more timid. She flies close to you and occasionally tries to speak with you. She takes note of your cuts and bruises along your face. But you pay her no mind. Occasionally, you'd shoot her a deadpan stare when she'd fly to close to you, sending her off.

But the whole ordeal was short lived. Before you knew it, your party had arrived at it's destination. A small town cracked at the horizon. It's small building nestled between rolling hills. Houses of all sizes were neatly aligned between dirt roads. They were all constructed using simple materials. Wood. Earth. Masonry. And glass. All in all, it gave a simple and inviting feel to the place.

A start contrast to your steel and concrete city.

It was all so peaceful and verdant. It seemed like a vacation town.

Your mind wanders. Where are the others? Mac and the rest of your squad? What of the the resistance movement back home? What of the war?

Your militia training pops into mind. The resistance never issued cyanide pills. There wouldn't be enough to go around. Instead, they advised one to bite their own tongue off. With any luck, one would sever one of the major arteries and bleed to death before being tossed into a Stovie interrogation chamber. You shudder and the thought and dismiss it.

The rows of houses eventually gave way to an enormous tree nestled in the middle of town. Truly, it was breathtaking. Thick roots planted into the ground gave the tree ample support. A small door and a pair of windows were carved into the tree itself. More balconies and windows were perched on various branches through the tree. You silently marveled at it's grace before being ushered inside by the ponies.

The interior was of the tree was almost as breathtaking as the exterior. You swear that the inside was bigger than the out. Dozens upon dozens of shelves lie carved into the walls. Each one of them packed to the brim with books and scrolls. Was this a library?

The usher deeper inside, and place you on a couch obviously too small for you. Your gear is still being carried by the white pony, who only watches you cautiously.

You feel their eyes.

Watching. Studying. Examining.

The purple unicorn trots up to you. She speaks a few words to you. She carried a curious tone in her voice and waits expectantly when she finishes. But you cock your head to the side, and only offer silence.

The yellow pegasus returns from the other room, presumably a kitchen. She carried a tray full of food and drinks. Fresh fruits and vegetables served up on fine china. She hands out food and drinks to the other ponies, to which you watch in envy.

Food has been scarce. It always has been. You stomach growls at the sight.

But the yellow pegasus takes notice. She grabs an apple from her plate and slowly hovers over to you. She lands on the couch next to you before saying a few words to you.

You remain silent.

She holds the apple over to you. A large smile fills her face. You feel the telekinetic bindings release from your body.

Your arms are freed. But, in the corner of your eye, you can see the orange and ponies ponies preparing a rope. The purple pony also eyes you cautiously.

No chance at pulling an escape here.

You look back to the yellow pegasus. She stares deep into your eyes as you do to hers.

Eyes of innocence. Grace. And kindness.

Traits no Stovie could ever carry.

You've been though hell and back. Any kind gesture now is one you'd take to heart. You reach out and grab the apple from the yellow pony's hood. You take a bite.

It's been a while since you've had fresh fruit. Fresh food had become a luxury during wartime embargoes. Most of your food came from a can, and sometimes that included trash cans.

It could have been months since you've last had something 'good' to eat. But honestly, you've lost count of the days.

You look to the yellow pony. You could feel her anxiety. Waiting to see what your next move was. But honestly, it was a mutual feeling that you tried to cast aside.

You place your hand on her head and pet her a few times. She is wary of your touch, and cowers slightly as your hands make contact. You run your fingers down her mane. Once she realizes you mean her no harm, she gives caution to the wind.

You raise your hand against yourself.

"Anonymous." you announce.

You repeat the gesture a few times before they seem to catch on.

The purple unicorn steps forward. She raises a hoof and presses against her chest.

"Twiliiiight" she slowly announces.

You both smile.

You take a bite into your apple. The sweet flavor enriches you taste buds.

"Thanks."


End file.
